Playing for Keeps: Harford Scarlet Series (8 page)

She lay on top of him, their skin slick with sweat. Still joined together, they both fell asleep.

A hand stroking her spine woke her up. Light was streaming across the bed. She had shifted to one side as they slept but could feel him swelling under a thigh splayed across his body. Sleepily, she moved over him again and he found his way inside her. She tightened automatically around his increasing hardness and sighed happily into his neck.

‘Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.’ He squeezed her buttocks, tightening her around him and she rubbed her breasts against his broad, hair-dusted chest, loving the friction. He slid his one hand between their bodies to a breast and began tugging her nipple, then scratching it lightly with his nails. The other hand lightly teased and circled where they joined.

Her stomach twitched with heat, her breasts demanded more contact: him partially filling her and his taunting hand weren’t enough. She sat upright, ramming him inside, and grabbed his hands, placing them tightly on her hungry breasts. The squeezing swelled the thick, molten wires running through her body, centred on where they were intimately connected, spearing up inside her. She rotated against him, the slowly tightening coil transporting them both to rapture.

Instead of draining her, after the tremors died away, Sarah felt energised. She smiled down at Tom and he grinned back. The room reeked of sex, the bedsheets crumpled and stained, clothes tangled on the floor.

‘I suppose we’d better get up, I really need a shower.’ Sarah eased off him, bemoaning the loss of contact.

‘Me too. We’ll have to share,’ he added, getting off the bed. ‘And I’m absolutely starving.’ He rubbed his flat belly and she laughed.

‘You’re always hungry.’

‘Hungry for you. Absolutely starving.’ His eyes heated up again.

They took a luxurious shower in the en suite bathroom, mutually soaping each other. They soon got carried away and Tom took her again against the shower wall, her legs wrapped around him.

Even the touch of the towels as he dried her off made her back arch in bliss. He rubbed moisturiser into her skin and she returned the favour, getting creative around his sensitive parts.

Increasing hunger sent them to the kitchen to rummage around in the cupboards; Tom cursed when they came up empty-handed apart from some bananas and supplement drinks. He offered a piece of fruit and a carton to her but she shook her head as he gulped one of each down.

‘We’ll have to go out,’ he said.

‘You’re not a cook, then?’ asked a bemused Sarah.

‘I should be; I do know how. But I don’t have usually time, what with training and work. I’ve been a bit distracted and forgot to confirm the grocery order with the cleaner this week.’

‘Cleaner?’ For the first time, Sarah looked around the flat properly. She noted that, apart from being sparkling clean, it was large, light and airy, tastefully decorated in neutral colours. The kitchen was spacious, modern and swish, almost professional standard, and combined with a living area. A large flat-screen television took up a lot of one wall, opposite a leather three-piece suite. There were a few more doors that had remained closed on the corridor they’d passed through on the way in. She wandered over to the window, astounded when she was able to see the Thames flowing by below.

‘This place is yours?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘It’s big for one. And it has a river view.’

‘I liked the location. I had some family money.’ He swiftly changed the subject. ‘I’ll get you a clean shirt to wear; I need some carbs and protein. Let’s make a move.’

Slightly hurt and puzzled by his abruptness, she dressed quickly, avoiding looking in the mirror or at the bed with its rumpled covers. Tom dressed too, in a shirt and well-worn jeans. He stripped off the bed, dumping the sheets in a laundry bin, then remade it with fresh sheets.

‘See? I am house-trained to a certain extent. Ready?’ He grabbed his wallet, mobile phone, and keys while she looked for her belongings.

‘Oh hell, I left my coat in the club last night. Never mind, if you could drop me off, I’ll collect it and make my own way home.’

On his way out of the flat, Tom stopped and turned to look at her. ‘Sarah, don’t you realise that everything’s changed? I’m not letting you go anywhere without me.’

He walked back towards her and planted a slow, possessive kiss on her mouth. ‘I’m sorry, I’ll explain more once we’ve eaten. I’m grumpy when I’m hungry. You can borrow one of my coats for now.’

‘It’ll swamp me.’ And it did, although a smugly grinning Tom seemed to like the effect.

They took a lift down to the ground-floor car park where Tom collected his car, a gunmetal-grey Aston Martin. Sarah stared at it for a while. ‘This isn’t your usual vehicle; someone would have mentioned you driving this.’

Tom laughed and shook his head. ‘No, I have a small Audi for going to the club.’

Sarah didn’t comment, getting into the car without another word. He drove them to a nearby café, parking outside and rushing around to open her door. Once inside, he ordered and demolished the full English breakfast put in front of him. Sarah watched him, fascinated, ignoring her own baked potato. Although he was obviously hungry, his manners were immaculate.

He felt her watching him. ‘I hardly ate after the game yesterday – I was looking for you. I came back in the first Harford car heading home. And I’ve worked up quite an appetite with our activities in the last few hours.’

‘But what was the hurry?’ She laughed, incredulous.

‘Mike thought you’d gone to renew an acquaintance, with an old boyfriend.’

‘But Nick and Sam are old friends, not boyfriends.’

He frowned at the empty plate. ‘I’ve decided we should tell everyone we’re a couple.’

‘You’ve decided? On your own? Without consulting me? I thought you were happy with the
status quo
?’

‘I wasn’t. And neither were you.’

She didn’t think to deny it. ‘But, apart from our chemistry in bed and an insane mutual interest in rugby, what do we have in common?’

‘Isn’t that enough for now? We’ve more in common than …’ Tom trailed off. ‘Anyway, we’re a couple.’

Sarah sat back and looked at him hard. ‘No.’

‘No?’

She resisted the urge to melt as she usually did at his commands. ‘
No.
I don’t want a relationship. And not one with you.’

Tom stared at her. ‘What’s wrong with me? Give me some good reasons.’

‘You? You’re you. You always have your own way, you never give an inch, and you’re far too possessive for a start.’

Tom snorted. ‘You call those good reasons?’ He sat back too and folded his arms.

‘Well …’ She glanced at his car outside, the classic curves gleaming in the weak winter sun. ‘There’s that. And your millionaire pad.’

Tom smirked at her. ‘You don’t like the car? Or the flat?’

Sarah tried to stop her voice from rising. ‘That’s not a car, it’s a work of art. And your flat is more like a penthouse. Stop smirking – it is the penthouse, isn’t it?’

At his satisfied nod, she let out an exasperated breath. ‘I thought you were just a player with a couple of businesses you’d built up over a few years. Now I find out you could probably buy and sell Harford Park with one hand tied behind your back.’

‘So what?’ Tom leant over and stole a mouthful of her neglected meal. ‘I was lucky, in the right place at the right time. Made some money on the markets, in property, and invested it in some software. The penthouse is useful for business entertaining and it’s actually owned by one of the companies. I pay rent.’

‘You make it sound so simple. I only find this out, though, after a while. And I’ve no idea how you’re surviving on a Harford salary if you’re not working.’

‘I’m still working and earning, I’ve just taken a back seat,’ Tom explained. ‘Anyway, what has this to do with us as a couple?’

‘It’s just that …’ Sarah didn’t want to say what she was really thinking: that he’d lose interest in her. ‘Huge chunks of your life are a complete mystery to me and I don’t think a healthy relationship can start from that. I don’t move in your world and you don’t move in mine; all we have in common is rugby and sexual chemistry. Sooner or later, you’ll move on.’

‘Not without you,’ he insisted.

‘Are you sure? With all the sophisticated and beautiful women in the world, you really think you’ll be content with me?’

He didn’t answer, just nodded and smiled beatifically at her. ‘Finish your spud, it’s getting cold.’ He sat back and picked up a nearby broadsheet to peruse.

Sarah huffed and laid into her food with a vengeance, clearing the plate within minutes. She looked up to see him watching her out of the corner of his eye. ‘What now?’

‘Nothing. Only you’ll give yourself indigestion if you eat that fast.’

Sarah glared daggers at him. ‘Who do you think you are, my mother?’

‘No, your boyfriend.’ When she didn’t object and he saw a glimmer of a smile, he continued, ‘Or your man. I prefer man. And you, of course, are my woman.’

‘Your woman? Is that your inner caveman coming out?’

‘It is, and if you don’t get a move on I’ll be slinging you over my shoulder again and taking you back to my penthouse cave.’ He tossed the paper to one side and stood up. ‘Come on, they’re showing that cup game in the club bar, and we need to collect your coat and get to Harford before kick-off. Chop-chop.’

Sarah resisted the urge to either laugh or whack him in the stomach. After paying the bill, he hustled her back to the car. During their journey in the expansive, leather-scented interior, when he didn’t need both hands on the wheel, he held her hand or rubbed her knee.

After a while, Sarah spoke quietly. ‘I thought you were losing interest.’

‘What?’

‘The last couple of weeks you’ve seemed distant. I thought that you weren’t so attracted to me any more, that we were heading towards a natural … parting.’

Tom braked suddenly, pulling over into a driveway. He turned to her, opened his mouth to speak, but instead grabbed her, and kissed her until they were both gasping for breath. ‘Does that feel like I’m losing interest? I’ve just had a few problems to sort out with one of the companies, on top of all the training. But that’ll be resolved soon, don’t worry.’

‘OK.’ Sarah felt like the knot that had recently built up in her chest was slowly loosening. She looked away as her eyes burned. She tried telling herself that his reassuring words didn’t actually mean much, he was just stamping his ownership on her for the time being, but a tear spilled over anyway. She swiped at her eyes but the tears kept coming.

Tom leant over and wiped them away.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said hoarsely.

‘I’m not.’ He kissed her, this time lingering gently until the tears dried up. ‘I’ve hated not being able to be with you whenever I wanted, having to hide my feelings, having to sneak around. Leaving early because of breakfast meetings instead of holding you each night. Not seeing you at all some days. It’s been so hard to talk to you normally in the club when all I wanted was to declare that you were with me. Things will be different now, I know.’

Chapter Seven

A car tooted its horn at them, and Tom had to pull back out onto the main road. He kept touching her as before, as if he was reassuring himself she was still there. First, they went to the club where Sarah had been the previous day. Several cars were parked around the main building.

‘Busy here,’ remarked Tom.

‘A couple of the boys playing in the European games today are local and got their start here,’ Sarah explained. ‘Sam, one of the fellows you were incredibly rude to last night, was telling me about their youth development programmes.’

‘That’s something we need to expand on at Harford, to increase the players coming up through the ranks. It’s something I’ve been talking over with the chairman.’

‘I think you’re running out of time to do anything; half the season’s over and I’m not sure who’ll be able to carry any initiatives over after you leave. And the players don’t often get involved in that sort of thing anyway, only the odd obligatory training session. Ooh, there’s Nick, looking rather fragile. If I promise to behave and not flirt with him, will you promise not to cart me off over your shoulder if I go and apologise for last night?’ She looked over at Tom who had a peculiar, brooding expression on his face. ‘Tom? What’s up?’

‘Er, nothing. OK, I’ll wait here.’ He got his phone out and started to make a call.

‘Fine, I’ll be back in a moment.’ Sarah slipped out of the vehicle and dashed over to Nick who turned to her in surprise.

‘Sarah! Back so soon. Oh yeah, your coat’s safe behind the bar.’ Nick glanced behind her. ‘Nice car; it belong to the hulk who carried you off yesterday?’

‘Afraid so, and the hulk’s name is Tom, Tom Murray, he’s –’

‘Rugby player, millionaire businessman and, from the looks of it, exceedingly possessive,’ interrupted Nick. ‘I’ve heard of him, he’s quite well known in the City. You’ve bagged yourself a whale there, darlin’. I hope you can handle him.’

‘Handle him?’ echoed Sarah.

‘Actually, more like a shark,’ mused Nick, correcting himself. ‘He’s known for being the most ruthless: what he wants he goes for. Stone-cold corporate raider type. More than a few company chairmen breathed a sigh of relief when they heard he was off to play rugby for a few years. And even more very beautiful women would scratch your eyes out with their talons for the chance of going out with him, or even just going to bed with him. I’ll go over for a brief word while you get your coat.’

Nick was already halfway across to the car by the time Sarah had moved her feet to go into the club. A few minutes later, she came back out to find Tom leaning against the Aston Martin and Nick casually chatting with him.

Tom looked around and smiled. ‘All sorted?’ At her nod, he shook hands with Nick and slid back into the car.

Nick walked around the bonnet and gave Sarah a hug. ‘I’m pleased for you, but watch your back for those talons. And give me a call if you need anything. Take care,’ he whispered in her ear. He sauntered off into the club giving them both a jaunty wave.

The car purred into life as Sarah sat down. ‘Interesting conversation?’

‘We have some acquaintances in common.’ Tom pulled smoothly out of the car park and turned in the direction of Harford.

Sarah watched his strong, capable hands on the wheel, negotiating through traffic. She studied the ultra-expensive platinum watch on his wrist, different again to the one he usually wore. By the cut of his jeans, shirt, and jacket, she could guess they were high-priced. His normally suppressed aura of power and control had burgeoned and it wasn’t difficult to imagine him taking command in boardrooms with sardonic ease. It was as if he was shedding a skin, a shell of artificial normality, and reverting to his potent, ruthless, natural self. A tremor of combined fear and excitement went down her spine.

‘Cold?’ Tom noticed her shiver. He went to adjust the controls and she caught his hand.

‘No, just thinking. You’ll need to take me to my flat for a change of clothes, please.’ He gave her hand a light squeeze then moved his own to her thigh. She tried to conceal the darts of sensation his fingers generated but Tom noticed her shortness of breath and moved them further up her jeans-clad leg. They grazed her sensitive inner thigh, then brushed the seam between her legs up and down, up and down, up and down …

Sarah tried, with little success, to stop her hips from jolting into his hand, and couldn’t stifle the whimper which rushed out. He pressed more firmly and she squirmed against his touch. He scraped lightly again with his fingernails then withdrew his hand to change gear. Again, she couldn’t withhold a moan of dismay at the loss of contact.

‘Getting impatient, are you?’ He adjusted his own jeans over a substantial swelling. ‘I think a quick stop at your flat would be an excellent plan.’

For the rest of the journey, between gear changes, he teased her with his free hand, even picking up her right hand and placing it on the bulge between his legs. She explored his contours through the fabric, squeezing and rubbing and tormenting him.

By the time they reached her flat, they were both gasping for breath. She unlocked the door with fumbling hands and he pushed her inside. He took her against the front door, their jeans around their knees, swallowing her cries with his lips, biting and sucking her neck as he came inside her.

Afterwards, she automatically went to shower but he caught her arm. ‘Don’t totally wash me off you. I want to know there’s a part of me on you … in you.’

Sarah caught her breath at the thought; the intimate nature of his request blew her mind, made her weak with submission.

‘And this is your underwear for the day.’ From inside his jacket, he pulled out a small bag from an exclusive lingerie shop. ‘Go change.’

Blindly following his instruction, she went to the bedroom and quickly changed. The silky bra and tiny string slid on, cupping and revealing her curves. She slipped into fresh clothes: a well-fitting pair of brown trousers, a snug cream V-neck shirt, and a cashmere jumper. Tom’s hot gaze was on her the entire time and he murmured his approval. Once she was dressed, he kissed her slowly and ran his hands proprietorially over her body.

They walked hand in hand down to Harford Park to see the second half of the game. Clare and some friends had arranged to meet them but the club wasn’t crowded. Tom kept a hand around her waist the whole time, or found an excuse to keep in contact with her, and everyone soon got the message that they were an item.

At the end of an enthralling match, after which Tom disappeared to sort out a playing issue, Clare grilled Sarah to catch up. She was almost squealing with excitement. ‘So, you’re official, then?’

Sarah tried to smother it, but the grin broke out anyway. ‘He insisted. He was quite forceful.’ She briefly filled Clare in on the events of the night before, omitting only the intimate details of the torrid, physical encounters.

Clare gushed, ‘That’s so romantic, him carrying you away! It’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. And him driving such a nice car and being so rich, it’s like he’s a dream man.’ She sighed. ‘I wish something like that would happen to me, but I haven’t even spoken to a fanciable male since … well, since I last spoke to Alex. And he’s too busy with other women to notice me.’

Although her tone was light, Sarah detected hurt. ‘What about Danny? You were getting on so well last week and he’s good-looking. For a prop.’

Clare laughed cynically. ‘He is, isn’t he? I’d been trying to forget that.’ She sighed. ‘He didn’t call, though, which means he wasn’t that interested. I’m thinking of extending our “no players” rule to all Park teams. Well,
my
“no players” rule, seeing as you appear to have well and truly broken it.’

Sarah decided to change the topic of conversation. ‘How’s work?’

‘Don’t ask. I’m so tempted to quit. I do enjoy my job, but I don’t enjoy some of the people around me. And with Christmas coming up …’ As she talked, Clare just got more despondent.

Sarah frowned at her friend’s unhappiness. ‘Just a thought – what about a sabbatical? You speak Italian and an old friend is desperate for a hotel manager for a couple of months in Tuscany. The money’s not great but living expenses are included.’

Clare stared at Sarah, excitement growing in her eyes. ‘Are you serious? I could really do that? And they play rugby near there. Mmm … Italian men!’

Tom wandered up behind them and wrapped his arms around Sarah’s waist, brushing a kiss against her neck. ‘Hey, darling. Italian men? Where?’

Clare started hopping excitedly from one foot to the other. ‘In Italy, of course. And pasta. And clothes. I’ll do it.’

Sarah tried to be practical. ‘You do realise you’ll be away for Christmas? You may have to cover your rent here. And you’ll miss lots of rugby here too. And I’ll miss you.’

Her friend calmed down a little. ‘I’ll miss you and watching the team. But I’ve no awkward family Christmas commitments. And I was thinking about moving out of the flatshare anyway. Can I store some stuff at yours – pretty please?’

‘Hang on, I’ll have to text Franco to check he’s still looking.’ Sarah sent a quick message and Franco hit back at a run. ‘It’s yours from a couple of weeks’ time. You’re welcome to leave stuff at mine. Now all you have to do is sort out your job.’

‘Job, schmob.’ Clare grinned happily. ‘Woo-hoo! I’m off to
Italia
.’ She started humming and was soon gesticulating wildly with her other friends.

‘What on earth are they doing?’ asked a bemused Tom.

‘On past experience, I’m guessing that’s the Italian National Anthem they’re singing. Or trying to sing. It’s a bonkers anthem – half opera, really.’

‘Of course, that explains it, I thought it was familiar.’ He hummed along good-naturedly too.

It built in a crescendo then all the performers paused, not knowing the next bit. Their small group broke into laughter and some around them applauded. Tom glanced over his shoulder. ‘Hi, Alex, you going to perform next?’

The scrum half had been standing quietly behind them, grinning widely at the tomfoolery. ‘Not today, I’m not really much of a singer.’ He noted Tom’s possessive hold on Sarah. ‘Finally out in the open, then? About time too. Hi, Clare.’

Clare turned back to them, still pink-cheeked from her exertions, and beaming. Her smile died quickly when she saw who was speaking to her and she mumbled a quick hello before excusing herself to go to the bar, almost running away.

Sarah watched her go, feeling troubled. ‘Tom, would you mind? I’ll go and give her a hand with the drinks.’ She turned in his arms and gave him a quick peck on the lips, which he followed up with a deeper smooch. Reluctantly, she pulled away and pursued Clare.

‘Clare, what’s up?’

‘Nothing. Just avoiding another awkward confrontation with Alex.’ Her eyes flickered in his direction. ‘Until I get over this embarrassing crush, I can’t trust myself to behave near him. At least I’m off to Italy for a while to sort myself out.’

‘It’s only temporary; what if you don’t get over it by the time you return?’

‘I have to,’ answered Clare simply. For a moment, Sarah glimpsed the ache behind Clare’s light-hearted exterior. ‘And I will. I always move on, no matter what happens. I don’t usually run away to do it – that’s a new one. And it’ll be brilliant.’ Clare let loose a blinding smile.

‘Well, take care. I don’t want to be responsible for you getting heartbroken again.’

‘Oh, I’m never heartbroken, just heart-bruised, bent or dented. Right, drinks are in – give me a hand and we’ll venture back. I’ve got plenty of friends to talk with; I’ll just avoid standing next to Alex.’

They returned to their small group, Tom welcoming Sarah back with an arm around her waist again. She whispered in his ear that she’d update him later. Clare doled out the drinks and took care to keep away from Alex, who was studying her with increasing puzzlement.

‘So, what are your plans for Christmas?’ Sarah tried to distract Alex from making her friend feel too uncomfortable.

‘Er …’ Alex gave a chatting Clare one last bewildered glance and focused his attention on Sarah and Tom. ‘The players haven’t got much time off; there are really important games in the festive period. Some of my family are popping down for a few days for a couple of them.’

‘Mine too,’ confirmed Tom. ‘You’ll get to meet my father and hopefully my brother.’ He squeezed Sarah. ‘They’ll be delighted I’ve met a fellow Celt instead of a Sassenach. Have you arranged anything yet?’

‘Well, work should have lightened off so I should be around, although I’ve promised I’ll be in Wales for Christmas Day itself. This year, we’re all at my parents’ for a change. It’ll be manic: screaming, overexcited kids everywhere. By Boxing Day morning, I’ll look forward to locking myself in the rental car and driving back down here.’

‘Such a short visit? Not that I’m complaining – I’ll get to have more time with you.’

‘I can always see them in Cardiff for Wales’s home games in the Six Nations; I’ll go to one or two of them. They’re more convivial surroundings to deal with. Not by much, though: screaming girls in cowboy hats will replace the kids for the annoyance factor.’

‘Is it that bad? I haven’t been to Cardiff for years; I’ve always been busy or playing. And it’s likely I’ll be playing again this time around if we have any postponed games. Fingers crossed I’ll be joining you all at the Millennium Stadium, though.

‘You may be lucky, if we don’t have any heavy rain or unexpected snow forcing the postponements. Still, the Harford pitch drains very well.’ Sarah paused and summoned her nerve. ‘You may find my family a handful, though; I love them to death but even I can only take them for a few hours. The average family gathering usually involves about 50 close relatives, including grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins first and second, nieces and nephews. They’re all firm believers in hugs making the world a better place.’

Tom was confused. ‘They sound great but – well, how are you more naturally … reserved?’

‘In a family like mine, we can’t all be heard at the same time. And my parents only had the two of us.’

‘I can’t wait to meet them, they sound fun. We don’t have much family left; there aren’t many Murrays on my dad’s side and my blood father has only distant cousins. And my mother was out of contact with hers before she passed away.